Savior
by impulsivegallagher
Summary: Klaus Mikaelson never expected to be bested by a spell, but as he forces himself to look away from the body in the casket, he realizes he may not be as indestructible as he once was.


_it kills me not to know this  
but I've all but just forgotten  
what the color of her eyes were  
and her scars or how she got them_

{ savior }

I.

The first thing that crossed Caroline's mind when she awoke was that it was _always_ her. Despite the distance between them, the _years_ that had severed their connection further , she was still considered the distraction, the bait. Caroline Forbes: loving child of the deceased Liz Forbes, known as bait to all else. Tattered drapes hung loosely above her head, and taking a glance around, Caroline immediately deducted that the individual who had kidnapped her this time had absolutely _dreadful_ taste. Taking a steady breath, she realized with a start that she wasn't even tied down. Her kidnapper really sucked at this.

She was two steps away from crossing the threshold that would lead her out of the musty-smelling house when she ran into something hard. She pressed her fingers against what was seemingly air and groaned; a witch had trapped her inside. Silly Caroline for believing this would be easy. When was it ever?

_ x _

"Here lies Bethany Monique, daughter of Clarissa and Henry Monique. Treasured by many…"

Klaus immediately tuned out, already bored of this dreary gathering. Using the witches for his daughter's protection was one thing, but showing respect wasn't something he was accustomed to nor did he ever plan to be. This had all been Elijah's idea, of course. Always the noble brother between the two. He was positive the ancestral witches were rolling backwards in their graves. A hybrid murderer showing his face at a burial for one of the most important witches in New Orleans; where was the justice? Again, he'd much rather have been in his studio or even spending time with the blonde bartender he'd grown so fond of in the passing years. But Elijah had been _persistent._

"She died to protect you," Elijah had pointed out as if that made a lick of difference to Klaus. And he was positive he'd said just as much at the beginning of the conversation.

"So, there were some casualties," He had shrugged, "This is war, Elijah."

It wasn't as if Elijah was new to this game; war had been the constant darkness in New Orleans since they'd returned.

"We finally have the witches on our side, Niklaus. Are you willing to risk that? Do you wish to be hated as Marcel was?"

"Marcel was _feared_ by the witches, and even then it still wasn't enough," Klaus had argued, growing angry with his brother. "I don't give a damn what they think of me. I'm the King, and they'll bow down with respect or none at all."

"They will seek out any weaknesses you have; any disadvantages they see will be festered!" He had rubbed his hand down his face in exasperation, "These witches are nothing like what we've dealt with before. Please, for your daughter's sake, don't allow them to become another enemy."

And here they were, Elijah standing stiffly beside the casket, Klaus perched up against the stone wall of a crypt. Klaus wondered exactly how long would be considered respectful before he could leave. He was itching to get home; it was a full moon tonight which meant the little wolf would be returning to see Hope. He broke into a wry grin as he thought of leaving out a doggie mat on the front porch and didn't bother to hide it as Elijah glanced over, a questioning – or maybe not so questioning as much as accusing – glint in his eyes. Hoping to avoid what was sure to be a questionnaire as soon as this bloody event was over, Klaus moved his eyes past his brother and instead focused on the girl in the casket.

His daughter had grown quite fond of her over the years, had maybe even viewed her as an older sibling, the sole reason Klaus hadn't disposed of her early on. He'd never felt particularly attached to the witch the way his daughter so easily had, but he'd grown used to her constant nagging presence. Even then, she hadn't been a large hassle, not the way the others always were.

As the body was lowered into the ground, Elijah took a few steps back to meet him and fixed him with an accusing glare. "Did you bother to listen to what Clarissa said at all, brother? I think you'll find it of uttermost importance."

Klaus arched an eyebrow as a response, and Elijah huffed slightly at his brother's obvious attempts to spit on all and any types of cooperation. "She's declared war against the rogue vampires of the city. She believes that Bethany would not have been in harm's way had the vampires been under control."

"And so she's blaming me for her incessant daughter's death?" Rage broke out upon Klaus' features, and he was sure that had Elijah not immediately continued speaking, he would've killed the witch for her idiocy.

"Niklaus, please," Elijah griped, sounding more and more like an exhausted, overbearing father with each passing day, "She doesn't blame you. She is only angry at those who took her daughter away from her; she isn't thinking rationally."

"I don't have _time_ for petty witch problems," Klaus growled, smacking his fist against the stone wall and standing up straight. "I trust that you'll dispose of this moronic plan early on before I get involved and kill her myself for suggesting another war."

His generosity could only extend so far, and he knew his brother would take any chances he could to dispel the outbreak of angry witches. Leaving Elijah behind to patch up loose ends with the grieving witch party, Klaus quickly disappeared into the direction of the household his daughter had deemed suitable years ago.

At only six years old, Hope had already dispelled the intentions her mother had once had. Wishing for her little girl to be kept as far away from the Mikaelsons as possible, Klaus was very well aware that she had planned to give Hope somewhat of a normal childhood with her impromptu husband, Jackson. Plans had gone awry, as they always seemed to, and he was certain that had Hayley had her way, Hope would've grown to be weak. She was a _Mikaelson_ , and Mikaelsons were _not_ weak; Hope was no exception. She had grown fond of the supernatural lifestyle her father had set out for her, had grown to share the genetic strength and will that seemed to carry through the family line (it had so unfortunately skipped over the eldest brother, however).

Klaus could feel the tension reverberating off the mansion Marcel's ex-lackeys had built as a generous gift to Hope on her fifth birthday, and he sighed internally. Perhaps asking Rebekah to babysit had been a rather pitifully preposterous idea, as she and Hope clashed nearly as much as she and Klaus did.

"That's a thousand dollar rug!"

Making his presence known, Klaus loudly shut the door behind him and crossed the threshold of the den, wincing as Hope whipped a glass off the counter and threw it against the wall. Immediately flashing to her side, he scooped her up in his arms before she could cause any more physical or perhaps psychological damage, ignoring her protests as he forcefully set her against the couch.

Rebekah looked just as distressed as ever, the telltale sign of annoyance visibly playing part in her eyes. "She broke a thirty thousand dollar wine bottle and threw it all over the bloody carpet, Nik!" She crossed her arms, glaring at the six year old as if that would somehow dissipate of the mess.

Deeming it safer to face his struggling daughter rather than face the wrath of Rebekah, Klaus took note of the sudden tremors and gestured for his sister to take a look. Hope's tiny features scrunched up in pain and her dark hair fluffed over her face as she let out a moan of pain.

"What's happening?" Hope whined, mouth forming an 'o' as her arm jerked violently to the right. Klaus took ahold of her, careful not to disrupt the shift and sent an anxious glance in Rebekah's direction.

"She's shifting," His sister concluded wondrously, deducting from Klaus's panic-stricken expression that this was _not_ a possibility. Hope had never hurt a fly- well, there was that one time, but that was _it_ \- and shifting at this age had never been heard of. Tucking tail, Rebekah flashed to the kitchen to ring Elijah. If anybody could coax a witch into helping the Mikaelsons in times of need, it was him.

_x_

Caroline pounded against the wall, desperate for an escape. Hours had passed, and she was positive that if was going to die inside a house that smelled particularly like pee, she wasn't going to do it without at least attempting an escape. Grinning slightly as her hand struck through a smooth patch of drywall, she began to map out her escape. But then she hissed and yanked her hand back, soothing the burn that adorned her knuckles. She took a step back and peeked through the hole she'd made, looking for the vervain that surely had to have been hidden in the walls, but only found a few lone spiders crawling over one another for dominance.

"That's freaking great," She complained, falling back against the velvet chair in the corner of the main bedroom. She'd been at this for hours now, searching every square inch of the nearly debilitated house for some escape route, but unsurprisingly her kidnapper had been thorough. The only piece of information she'd been given had been a small scribbled note in her back pocket.

 _For Klaus Mikaelson._

And really, she shouldn't have been shocked because her fling with Klaus had been bound to catch up with her at one point or another. Caroline rolled her eyes and heaved out a breath. She hadn't even spoken to Klaus since that pitiful day in the woods when she'd so recklessly given into the tension that had been fueling her for months, the unforgettable feeling of attraction she'd worked so hard to fight off for so long. It had been nearly six years since that day, and she'd just about forgotten he'd existed (or so she told herself); surely, he'd moved on. _I intend to be your last._ Really, who said that and kept their word? Shaking herself out of her trance, Caroline reminded herself that this was a good thing; he had moved on, and so had she.

Except she was trapped here. Because of him. Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson: the most powerful supernatural being on the planet. Someone outside of Mystic Falls had learned of his ridiculous soft spot for her, and she couldn't begin to imagine how that was possible, but it didn't matter now. She was sure she wouldn't be set free until he was well aware of her predicament and played the knight in shining armor act he'd played several times all those years ago. Even then, it would still be a trap, and she would probably get the rough end of the stick because hybrid or not, his strength didn't compare to the full-blown bad luck she so naturally had.

"Klaus, you fucking jackass," She cried out to nobody in particular, hoping that his oh-so-special hybrid senses would be able to pick up her anger. Unsurprisingly, there was no response.

With a huff of built up frustration, Caroline stood up and began to pace. The light sound of her heels impatiently hitting against the tiled floor echoed throughout the house, only fueling her lack of serenity further. She guessed she had only been here a few hours; she had quickly noticed that her phone was one of the first objects her kidnapper had snatched along with the pager she kept in her back pocket for work.

The entire house looked on the verge of collapsing, she noted, taking in the caved in ceiling that hung above her head. For being kidnapped, this specific experience seemed to be tamer than her other run-ins, and she wondered when it would get worse. Because throughout her life, she'd learned that being optimistic would never get here anywhere in the end, not when she was a vampire associated by contact with Klaus Mikaelson.

She would kill him when she saw him.

_x_

Hope wriggled relentlessly, throwing her body weight against her father's chest in an effort to quench the pain. The tears had long ago been replaced by pitiful sobs that wracked throughout her entire petite form. Klaus allowed her to rest against him, unwilling to touch her because it would only draw the pain out further. He warily glanced towards the door, itching to find Elijah himself and leave Hope with his sister. Rebekah had phoned Elijah several times, only reaching his voicemail each time and suffice to say, it had set them on edge. She had voiced her concern and longing to find their older brother various times but in the end hadn't been willing to leave Hope. Elijah was indestructible, immortal; Hope was not.

"The point of a bloody phone is to answer it when your family is calling," Rebekah snapped, shoving her iPhone back into the depths of her pocket ignoring the annoyance Klaus shot in her direction.

"I'd say we have more rather important matters to handle at the moment, sister," He pointed out in aggravation, feeling the beginning of a headache lurking at the back of his skull. He knew damn well who they would be forced to turn to now that Bethany had died. With peacemaker Elijah currently out of commission, he just wasn't sure how lightly she'd respond to threats and anger.

Rebekah was following his train of thought and let out an indignant sigh. "You've completely lost it if you believe she'll help us after the hell _you_ put her through."

Glaring, Klaus gestured for the phone. "We don't have much of a choice, do we?"

The phone landed in his palm gracefully, and he shot his sister a look. He was well aware of the damage he had caused, but this specific witch had once been a thorn in his side-turned-ally (on a good day). In the end, she'd become not quite an ally, but not quite an enemy either; she played neutral, though he knew if he demanded her assistance she'd laugh in his face. He had to play this carefully, not for a second daring enough to risk his own daughter's life.

"Having second thoughts, already?" Rebekah arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms. She shook her head slightly and snatched the phone out of his grasp. "She'll listen to me above you, and you know it," She instantly defended before he could inject a word.

"Sister, I have all of two minutes before I leave you with Hope and go after her myself," He warned, ignoring the pain as Hope gripped his arm tightly enough to shatter a few bones. She continued to squirm, growling against the sudden jerk that sent her arm flying into her aunt's direction.

"Davina," Rebekah spoke quickly into the phone, leaving no time for debate, "We need your help."

_x_

Could vampires grow faint? Her entire time as a vampire, Caroline Forbes had never once felt woozy or even the least bit nauseous. It was a decent draw of the cards in exchange for being forced to drink blood, which was by itself a touchy subject at the moment because she was _starving._ Her gums were aching, veins poking out from under the layers of foundation she'd painted upon her face. She could feel her fangs elongating and then just as quickly retreating back to the shelter of her gums. It couldn't have been long, and chastising herself for being so abruptly and uncharacteristically out of control, she forced herself to stop pacing and take a seat.

She felt as though she had caught a flu bug, but that was impossible, miles away from even being near a possibility. Caroline was a _vampire,_ a creature of the night; something as trivial as catching the flu seemed completely profound at this point. It was impossibility, and she knew without a doubt that this all tied together. The kidnapping, Klaus, the sickness. If Klaus didn't haul ass to meet whatever standards her kidnapper acquired, she would either a) desiccate to the point of becoming a mindless piece of stone or b) become just a memory and succumb to death which would take her to the oblivion the other side had been replaced with.

Groaning internally at both hunger and the ever present annoyance at Klaus Mikaelson for ever holding an interest in her, she began to slip down the length of the armchair. The dusty wooden floor collided almost painfully against her shins, and she felt herself drifting. Honestly, it had to have only been a few hours; what was _wrong_ with her? She'd dealt with nearly everything in that damned town, but this was new. New and particularly dangerous because waiting around for the unpredictable hybrid to be her guardian angel was an incredibly dumb idea that had somehow planted itself in the back of her head. The truth was, what if he didn't show up? He ruled New Orleans with an iron fist nowadays; could he really be expected to show up and save her ass for what felt like the hundredth time?

A sudden tremor began to work its way up her body, leaving her shivering and coughing wildly. Caroline covered her mouth to help diminish the cough, but pulled back immediately as she felt (and smelt) the red splatter across her palm. Whatever leftover blood in her system that she'd been relying on to keep her from drying out had just vanished along with any shred of hope she had left. Unless Klaus made a sudden appearance she was going to desiccate or die; that much was blatantly clear. Things were moving at an incredibly quick pace, and she wasn't entirely sure she had much longer than an hour left; she already felt the telltale signs of desiccation spreading throughout her limbs. For a wondrous moment, she felt a shred of sympathy for the vampires that had been brutally trapped in the tomb, but then she stopped herself. She didn't want to have first-hand experience in the desiccation department.

A sudden knock at the door had her on her feet immediately if not waveringly. She took slow, cautious steps, ignoring the nausea that seemed to go hand in hand with moving, and roughly ripped the door open. Fangs baring, she took in the sight of a shorter woman, hair cropped neatly at the top of her head, a smug smile dotted across her features.

"You _bitch_ ," Caroline growled, shoving away her humanity for two seconds and allowing her instincts to take over. She snapped ferociously at the woman, looking similar to a rabid dog. The woman stood calmly in the doorway, well aware of Caroline's current predicament, well aware that she couldn't cross the threshold to actually inflict any harm.

"Adonna is my name," The woman supplied unhelpfully, "And I suggest you show some respect."

With a wave of her hand, Caroline was soaring through the air before smacking hard against the wall. Plaster crumbling around her, she made a move to back away before the vervain seeped anywhere near her, but the witch held her in place.

"What do you want from me?" Caroline ground out, eyeing the vervain that was sliding down the wall in her direction. "Using me as Klaus bait is a big mistake; he'll rip you apart." It was a stretch, but it had been true at one point; she could only hope it still applied.

The witch rolled her eyes and broke into a wry grin. "I would say he's got more, well, problematic issues to deal with at this time."

Caroline felt her hope deflate immediately. "What's the point then? Why take the time to kidnap me and trap me in this dilapidated house if you knew he wouldn't come after me? What are you trying to do?"

"It'll make sense in the end," Adonna shrugged, "but for now, I'm afraid you can't be conscious for the next part."

Caroline made a poor attempt at breaking away from the witch's hold, but it was futile; she didn't feel much of anything as she succumbed to the darkness.

_x_

"She's transitioning," Davina pointed out in surprise and utter uselessness.

Klaus growled. "Six years later and you're still just as bloody unhelpful."

She spun around and held her hand up in warning, "And you're still just as bitter. Surprise!" Without waiting for what was undoubtedly going to be an ugly reaction, she turned to face Hope and rested a cold hand on the girl's cheek. "She's burning up; have you tried giving her blood?"

Rebekah shrunk back from Klaus's glare and immediately began to pixelate an argument. "Every glass I gave her, she threw against the damn wall, Nik! I will _not_ take the blame."

"She's a child; you could've easily overpowered her, Rebekah!" Klaus emitted, his worried eyes betraying the anger he was attempting to showcase. "Sister, if anything happens to her, you _will_ take the blame. She was under _your_ care."

"Guys."

"She's _your_ child; maybe if you stopped trying to be the destructive ruler of New Orleans, you'd have time to watch her every once in a while," Rebekah fought back.

Klaus stepped up to her and angrily pointed a finger in her face. "I granted you the trust you so tragically thirsted for after countless reasons not to!"

"Guys!"

"Trust? Watching my _niece_ is not a pledge of trust; your blonde bartender could've just as easily watched her," Rebekah shook her head and smiled bitterly, "You've become just as unforgiving and unrelenting as Mikael. Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a bloody mad man!"

Eyes flashing a dangerous shade of yellow, Klaus immediately had his sister pinned against the wall. "How dare you compare me to the monster who mutilated city after city in his quest to kill us off, the same monster you were once so willing to pawn me off to if it meant your own happiness!" He flashed his fangs at her, slamming her back against the wall once more for personal satisfaction.

But then he found himself flying through the air, back colliding painfully against the edges of the fire pit. Davina heaved an indignant breath and crossed her arms.

"Are you both done acting like twelve year old children or would you like me to wait?"

" _Davina_ ," Klaus growled through his teeth , moving towards the slim witch who had become the bane of his existence. Six years post and she was still just as infuriating as ever.

She rolled her eyes and knelt before his daughter, running a cold hand across her forehead. "She's not shifting of her own free will."

"I would've guessed as much," Klaus muttered, pulling a piece of firewood from his back. "You have all of ten seconds to become helpful before I rip your head from your body."

Davina continued at her own pace, not at all bothered by another petty Klaus Mikaelson threat; he only hurt those who proved to be useless, and she had no intention of doing so. "She's under a spell." Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched the girl squirm restlessly. "Give me an hour and I can provide you with all the information you need."

Klaus met her eyes and despite the feeling of annoyance that came along with it, he felt a small growing sense of respect for the witch; she was just another bane to his existence, but at the most a semi-tolerable one. "Find a way to fix this."


End file.
